


Alive Still

by SummerSnowflake



Category: Baccano!
Genre: F/M, Immortality, Mortality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerSnowflake/pseuds/SummerSnowflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mortality turned out to be a lie for them. It was never real. Never achievable. And living is the only way to take away the pain. They're not dead. They're not dying. They don't believe they're living either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

Her nose crinkles under the straw sun hat and she pulls on the brim to cover her wet face. Small pink lips curve into a little pout and she looks up at the tall man. "Isaac?" she whispers. The man takes a second to look down to her from the bright advertisement. He hums a response, signaling her to continue. She furrows her brows and pulls on her lover's sleeve. "I don't like it here."

The man looks at her face worriedly. "Is it the rain?" he asks. It might have been. After all, that morning was very bright and sunny. She decided that she would wear her new blue sundress and a hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it. The woman bought it for herself with her own money because Isaac thought it would be nice to do things honestly for a change. Of course, it was a huge disappointment for her when it started raining after lunch at a small restaurant. But instead, the woman shook her head and pulled harder at his sleeve. "Then what's wrong, Miria? Are you okay?"

"I just don't like it here," she mutters. Her eyes shift down to her muddy dress. She had tripped a few moments earlier, and the both of them took shelter underneath the awning of a movie theater. She is clearly upset, as seen from her heartbroken face and dismal eyes. Her hands clench on the brim of her hat in frustration.

Isaac places his left hand on her right shoulder, his right hand lifting the brim of her hat. "Do you want to leave?" He looks at her with sympathy and shares a smile. "Want to ride a cab home?"

Again Miria shakes her head. She hides her eyes and tugs on the hat to mask her face. "I don't want to."

"Why?" Isaac now has a confused look plastered on his face. He looks out to the streets and lights. The rain is falling in too small to perceive droplets, but it is definitely coming down enough to drench anyone who dares to walk in it without an umbrella. They couldn't walk back to the apartment. He turns his head back to Miria and tries to talk again.

"Isaac," Miria softly speaks, "where is home?"

Isaac is almost at a loss. He has never seen Miria so upset before. Usually he could cheer her up with a reassuring grin and a couple of nice words. Now he watches in silence at her small figure, shivering from the cold and... crying. "No, Miria..." Isaac pulls Miria to him. Her hands are still clutching at the hat, but she buries her face into his warm chest. "Please stop crying. It's okay."

Instead, Miria lets the tears fall even faster. She finally drops her arms to wrap them around his waist. Her voice muffles from the contact with Isaac's shirt, her breath warm to the man. "Isaac?" There is a pause—a very short one. Then he lets out a small hum to respond.

Miria feels all the faces she's made the past decades fall away in shards of glass, piercing her heart. Her mind is spinning in confusion and feelings and moments and memories. How many people has she met? How many people has she seen? How many people have died? How many years will she face? How many years until she can't take it anymore? It's all like the rainfall. Small little details that tend to come in large bunches that flood your mind. It's mostly clusters of feelings until it's just empty space. Until it's just being exhausted. Sometimes it's not fun anymore—living.

Miria's breath falls between Isaac's chest and her lips. She can feel how warm her own breath is, and she tightens her grasp on Isaac.

"Where's home?"

A pause and small intake of breath. "I guess we'll have to keep on walking to find out."


	2. Travel

His eyes raise slowly to meet the orange sunrise. The song of morning sings in his ears softly like the breeze carrying it around him. Quietly, he rests his chin in his palm and sighs. He mumbles to himself distinct words, only heard by himself and his memories. "I want to die already."

The night before, it had rained. Small dewdrops lay on grass and leaves, some falling to the ground in defeat from gravity. It was the rain that made the air right now so clean and fresh. The moment seems to be too much like a memory for Czeslaw. It reminds him of the small fields of flowers and small birds in the sky. But now it is a fenced off area, barring him from a strip of beach at the bottom of the hill he stood on.

The small device in his pocket vibrates, but he pays no attention to it. Czeslaw is too busy thinking about something else.

Maybe if I jump into the ocean I will drown.

His small act of negativity nips at the back of his head, and the optimism shines bright like the sunrise.

Or maybe I can just wait it out. Live until after the end of time.

The boy's lips purse at the thought. The way he thinks about it, sounds like he was being pessimistic, though he is trying to be positive. He doesn't want to see the end of time. Time is torture. It is a lie that was told to him when he was a small figure swaddled in white cloth. He will never be able to waste his time, so why should he even bother to be happy? Happiness comes with mortality. It's the reward of being human. Without mortality, your reward is memories of forever. But how could that be a reward? Wouldn't a man rather be happy than remember everything they regret? Czeslaw is no man, though.

He is a child. A figure who would go unnoticed. A person that is ignored and left alone to die. Yet he can't die.

The small device vibrates again. With a heaving sigh, Czeslaw picks it out of his jean pocket and holds it to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Come home. It's time for dinner."_

He pauses. Were the memories of lives worth living? Surely there are more than he that are immortal of which he cared for. Firo and Ennis were immortal. The zealous couple is immortal as well. If those four and he are immortal, there must be more.

"Ennis?"

_"Yes?"_

"...I want to go travel."

_"...Why? ...You've been traveling, since..."_

Czeslaw raises his voice. "I want to travel somewhere I've never been before." He bites his lip. "I want to make this worth it-" The boy pauses. Maybe it is too long of a pause. Then he speaks up again. "somehow... I want to do something. I don't want to stay here."

He can hear the woman's breath on the other side of the line. He knows that she is thinking about saying something: Yes, you can go. But that would only be him. Ennis starts, but Czeslaw continues. "With you... and Firo." Then there is the familiar pause of breath and tension.

What if she says no?

_"Of course."_

His eyes smile, but his lips stay in a tight line. _Of course._ Now his entire face is smiling. It was so strange how easily he could smile. He was too much like a child.

Or maybe he was too much like an old man.


End file.
